


I Just Couldn't Do That To Him

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, No active Troubles, Nuke - Freeform, Pre-Series, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26196589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: I don't suppose that either Nathan or Duke kept a diary when they were teenagers. But if they had, maybe some of those diary entries would have gone something like this.This is part Mutual Pining, and part mutual miscommunication, partly-accurate assumptions, defensiveness and lives that are taking them in contradictory directions.(This is set in 1992, which I figure puts them aged 17; the summer before the final year of high school.)
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Nathan Wuornos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**August 2nd, 1992**

I ran into Nate today; party at Mackenzie’s. We actually managed to get along for once. We had a laugh in fact. I think he was so surprised to realise that someone (namely Hannah Driscoll) was actually flirting with him that he forgot to be mad at me for a while.

He's easy to talk to in a way, or easy to joke around with anyway. At least, it was easy until he asked me what I'd been up to lately. That standard kind of question people ask when they haven't seen each other for a while. That simple kind of question that sounds so innocent but quickly gets complicated.

I didn't tell him of course. I didn't tell him about any of it. The lookout job with Blythe last week, or the package I'm holding for Scott, or the sweet deal with Sebastian that will keep me supplied with enough bootleg liquor to sell under the bleachers to anyone who wants it for the whole of next year.

I know he would disapprove, he would tell me I shouldn't, he'd tell me there are "better" options than that. He'd completely ignore the fact this is the only thing that gives me any control over my life, the only thing that offers freedom and the possibility of escaping Haven at some point. He'd completely ignore the fact that I could actually be good at it and build a life for myself with some excitement to it. The kind of life that won't have me keeling over from boredom before I even reach 30, which seems to be where he’s headed. He wouldn't see any of that, he would just judge me for it; he'd be disappointed and upset and hurt.

And I couldn't do that to him. Not when he was having such a nice evening. It's not like he doesn't have his own shit to deal with. His father is a fucking nightmare sometimes, honestly. I just couldn't do that to him. So I had to get vague, and deflect and direct the conversation elsewhere.

And it was only later that I realised - when I turned the question onto him, he did _exactly_ the same thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**August 28th, 1997**

I saw Duke again today. There was a party on the beach and he was selling alcohol (or something) to all the cool kids. I didn’t look too closely; I don’t want to know. Then he was showing off - splashing around in the waves, drying his shirt in front of the bonfire. We got talking later on. He was full of stories again. Outrageous stories about what some of the people around us have been up to; I don’t think even half of them can be true. Or maybe they are, maybe everyone Duke knows really is just that exciting.

When he asked me what I’d been up to I didn’t want to reply. I knew if I told him the truth he’d laugh. Working, studying, looking at colleges, reading up about how to become a detective. He would have laughed and called me boring. He would wonder why I want to “waste” my life following in my father’s footsteps. And he would be hurt that I’m thinking about the kind of job that would mean I’d be arresting people who do the kinds of things he does.

I didn’t want to hurt him like that. It’s not about him. It’s not even about his kind of crimes. Underage drinking? I don’t care. Truthfully I don’t. I don’t want to join the police for those kinds of crimes. I want to  _ help people _ . People who have been attacked, or robbed, or hurt, or murdered. I want to help them get justice and their families get the information they need to move on. Bootleg liquor? Who cares. 

But he wouldn’t have seen that. I can’t imagine him wanting to listen if I tried to explain to him why I want to wear a badge. He would be upset and hurt and angry. It was nice to talk to him, sitting on the beach in the light of the fire and joking around. He seemed in a good mood, he seemed to be having a good evening. I didn’t want to ruin it by telling him something he didn’t want to hear.

When I didn’t reply to his question, he just brushed on past it with a, “That exciting huh?” So I went with the vagueness, telling him, “Yeah, you know this town.” And then he was telling stories again and that was that.

It was only when I got home that it occurred to me to wonder whether he let the question go so easily because he understood why I didn’t want to answer. Maybe because he could see why I don’t want to tell him about my life, or perhaps because he has equivalent reasons for not wanting to tell me about his own.


End file.
